hand, she ought to consider that in her unfriended, unprotected state, an asylum, such as was now offered to her, must be desirable and advantageous; and that as in this life we seldom meet with pleasure or happiness, without some alloy, she ought to be thankful for the good, and submit to temporary inconveniences without murmuring. She arose early; her heart was depressed when she reflected on the uncertain fate of the lady to whose kindness she was indebted for her present hopes and expectations: 'Ah!' cried she, 'heaven bless you, dearest lady, wherever you are, and may Providence one day restore you to felicity and your friends.' She quitted the apartment with a flood of tears, and coming, found the breakfast ready, and soon after a chaise at the gate; Joseph conveyed her portmantua and box to the carriage; Albert stared a little at the latter, but said nothing.
She shook hands with the worthy couple, tears running down their cheeks at parting with so gentle a lady, she having liberally rewarded their kindness, and previously concerted a correspondence with Joseph, if any thing new occurred at the castle, and receiving advice from him how to manage at the post-houses about carriages and horses.
A few days after her departure, Joseph went to the neighbouring town, to procure a few necessaries, and, proud of his present, went upon the horse, instead of his old friend the ass. Whilst he was there, a gentleman came up to him, and, viewing the beast very attentively, asked him if the horse was his. Joseph answered in the affirmative. 'Will you sell it?' demanded he. 'No, Sir,' replied the other, 'I cannot sell it.' 'How long have you had it?' 'Some time,' said Joseph, roughly, and rode off, not liking the stranger's curiosity. He was however followed at a distance, and had scarcely put the horse into the stable, and entered the kitchen, before a knocking at the door was heard, and Joseph saw the same gentleman who was so inquisitive, with another, who had the appearance of a servant, enter the room. 'Do not be alarmed,' said the stranger, 'I want to ask you a few questions, which, if you answer truly, no harm shall happen to you, else you must look to the consequence; tell me from whom you had the horse I saw you ride, and how long it has been in your possession? At your peril answer me with truth.' Before Joseph could recollect himself to answer this demand Bertha fell on her knees, 'O, Sir, do not hurt my poor husband, and I will tell you all.' 'Be quiet, wife,' said Joseph, 'I will answer for myself. I had the horse from a man, a friend of mine.' 'What was his name?' 'Sir, I humbly think that is no concern of yours.' 'Villain!' cried the gentleman, 'tell me this instant, or I will send you and your wife to prison, for the horse was stolen from me.' 'O, the Lord be gracious unto us,' exclaimed Bertha, 'the man's name was Albert, Sir; we are innocent indeed we are.' 'I believe it,' said the other, very mildly; 'you look like an honest woman, and I will reward you handsomely, if you speak truth. William, take care of the man, I will go into another room with this good woman.' 'Bertha!' cried Joseph, the stranger led her away into the parlour, she crying and begging no harm might happen to Joseph. He quieted her fears on that head, and then asked if Albert was in the house. 'No, indeed, Sir,' answered she; 'he went away four days ago, in a chaise with the young lady.' 'Ah!' cried he, 'that is the very thing I wished to know; and where are they gone, my friend?' 'Alack, Sir, I believe they be gone to Parish, or some place like that.' 'The devil!' exclaimed he, 'to Paris. Well, and are they to return here?' 'O, no, Sir,' returned Bertha; 'no such good luck to us, for to be sure she was as generous as an empress.'
He then returned to the kitchen, where Joseph sat very sullen; 'I tell you what, friend, I believe you may be innocent; but the lady you have had here is my niece, who has eloped from my care, and seduced my servant to steal the horse you rode today, and go off with her; I am now in search of her, and if I can find her, and she will return, I shall receive her with kindness and joy, and forgive every thing; therefore, if you can tell me where she is, you will do her a great piece of service, I assure you; some wicked person has persuaded her to run away.' 'Sir,' said Joseph, firmly, 'I heard the lady say she was going to travel, - it was not my business to be impertinent and ask questions.' 'But you know where she is.' 'I do not, Sir,' answered he, 'I cannot tell where she is, nor the places she is going to travel through.' 'You know she is gone to Paris?' 'Yes, Sir; but I heard her say she should not stay there, but travel further; and this is all I know. As to the horse, if you can prove it yours, give me a receipt, and you may take it.' 'No, my friend,' replied the gentleman, 'keep it for your use, but if you should ever hear from, or see Albert or the lady, and will let me know, I will give you a hundred crowns.' 'O, the goodness,' cried Bertha, 'bless your honour, you shall surely know.' 'What say you,' said he, turning to Joseph. 'I say, Sir, money would not tempt me to do a wrong thing, but as you say it will be for the young lady's advantage, to do her service I will obey you.'
The gentleman appeared satisfied, and writing his address, whilst he desired Joseph to get a little wine and water for him, he whispered to Bertha, 'Get every thing you can out of your husband, and I will make your fortune; my man shall call again tomorrow.' Having drank his wine, he took a civil leave, and, giving Bertha two crowns, rode off.
'Lord!' cried she, when he was gone, what luck attends us! what a kind gentleman; how sorry I am he didn't come before the poor lady went away.' 'So am not I,' answered Joseph; 'I don't like him at all; he has a smooth speech to be sure, but if he was good, neither madam nor Albert would have run away I dare say: however I shan't ride the horse any more, 'till I know to whom he does belong.' Bertha tried every way to find if he knew where the lady was gone, but he evaded all her questions, and though he loved his old woman dearly, yet he knew she could not be entrusted with a secret; not that she would discover from ill-nature, but from a garrulity natural to old age, and a desire of obliging any one who wanted information from her.
Joseph, in the early part of his life, had obtained a tolerable education, and had better expectations, but the wars had carried off his friends and little possessions; he was glad therefore, in a humble state, to earn his bread, and be contented with the situation Providence had ordained for him; but his sentiments were above his condition, and he prized his word, and kept it when pledged with much more exactness than a fine gentleman does his honour, when given to a favourite lady, or a humble tradesman: Joseph therefore persevered in his integrity, but thought there would be no harm in writing what had passed that day to the young lady, and take her directions how to conduct himself, for he had a perfect reliance on her truth, and thought only ill treatment could have induced her to quit an uncle's house, without a friend to help her.
The following day the gentleman's servant made his appearance, but to little purpose for though Joseph was in the garden, Bertha had gained no information; but she told all she did know of the lady's coming there, the ghosts disturbing her the first night, her subsequent courage, her kindness and sudden resolution to leave them, and that she heard her say something about going to travel to Parish, but she knew no more, and she was sure Joseph knew no more than she - how should he? he never spoke twenty words to the lady. He asked who was the owner of the castle, she told his name, and with a present of another crown he took leave. Bertha looked at the money, 'Ah!' said she what a pity now I can't tell where she is; a hundred of these would make one happy for life.'
A very few days after this the old couple were at dinner, when they heard the trampling of horses; they hastily opened the door, and beheld, to their great astonishment a carriage with three attendants, and in the carriage Joseph saw his master, Count Wolfenbach: struck with wonder, he forgot to tender his services, but stood staring at him until he alighted. Being conducted into the parlour, one of the horsemen with him, 'Friend Joseph,' said he, 'I have sold this estate, and next month another family will take possession of it.' 'Good Lord!' cried Joseph, 'what will become of me and Bertha?' 'Don't be uneasy, friend Joseph, I shall take care of you; I have another estate in Suabia, a fine house and gardens, in perfect order Bertha and you shall have the care of it, with a servant under her to keep it clean, and a man under you to work in the gardens - what say you to that?' 'I am much obliged to your Lordship ' answered the honest man; ''tis rather late in life for me to travel, but I must obey your pleasure, and if you have not already got a man and woman there, I know a very industrious couple hard by, the only friends we have, who will be glad to go with us ' 'By all means,' said the Count, eagerly, 'but pray are you pretty quiet now; do the ghosts trouble you, as has been foolishly talked of?' 'I am seldom disturbed, my Lord,' answered Joseph; 'I never saw nor heard any ghosts.' 'I believe
